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(.............sept3) The Pleasure of Reading, a Kind of Miracle
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User Rating: |
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10.0
/10
(4
votes)
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It's 6: 30 AM and I sit
at a round, marble table
in a little cafe, the pleasant
Vivaldi in the background,
and I open my book:
'There had been a wind during the night,
and all the loneliness of the world
had swept up out of the southwest.'
The patter of words
augments my pleasure.
My mind loves
to step, word by word,
along a path
cleared by the mind of another.
I imagine diagramming the sentence,
adjectives and prepositional phrases
running down diagonals
from the base line of subject, object, verb,
a pleasant, straight flow
from begiinning to end.
My pleasure increases even more.
Maybe it's the illusion of control —
is that what we get from reading?
Instead of the great, dark abyss
of all possibility
from which to draw my next thought —
'I'm getting fat. The heater is humming. I like that
painting. Have to call mother. My wife'...
a road's lies paved and waiting.
The next sentence
in the story introduces a boy.
The boy hears the wind.
I can see him.
What magic is this?
From somewhere I don't understand
a picture forms, a story begins,
and in that same, created realm
it evolves, and now that boy,
that wind, are part of me.
Max Reif
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Comments about this poem ((.............sept3) The Pleasure of Reading, a Kind of Miracle
by
Max Reif
) |
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comments about this poem ((.............sept3) The Pleasure of Reading, a Kind of Miracle by
Max Reif
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Julia Klimenova
(7/18/2009 6:02:00 AM) |
I'm a great believer in literature as the source of pleasure, healing power, strength and wisdom. I can really relate to this poem. +10
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Janelle Morehart
(10/18/2007 7:53:00 AM) |
I feel like my hearts stopped and my mind wide open. This poem appeals to me a lot. I'm a very...ah obsessed reader -laughs- Dozens of books everyday, everynight, afternoons, twilight and so on. I drink them all in. I create worlds upon worlds. Lands and universes. It does give a sense of control, a sense of joy. It is magic of the mind. In my opinion that is the very best kind. Thanks for the poem. Loved it a lot!
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Angela Barker
(9/19/2007 10:10:00 AM) |
Max, you are have captured what only true readers understand, you and the book become one. Beautiful.
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Cheryl Moyer
(9/17/2007 9:37:00 PM) |
Max - He was always part of you, or you couldn't have seen him. I sometimes see dozens of horizontal lives dwelling inside, of course usually after a gin and tonic. I loved this piece!
Thanks - Cheryl
PS - Check out my 'More', you may like it as well.
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x... x...
(9/3/2007 2:05:00 PM) |
'Diagraming Sentences' now that's a lost art we were all once taught. I loved it for I could do it well. I read at least two books a week, sometimes more so I love this poem. Love how you describe the dawn and where you are and your thoughts.[myself, I must be honest and state I sleep through dawn and beyond]...marci.x~ ~ ~~~~~~~~~
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Tara very irritated with PH injustice
(9/3/2007 9:28:00 AM) |
Max, that's a deeply interesting (and of course well-penned) piece. It is a fascinating kind of territory - why we should find it enchanting and life-enhancing (and a whole range of other emotions) to read simple words laid down, in ink or the screen, I find. But we do.... and we do from you. t x
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Michael Shepherd
(9/3/2007 9:27:00 AM) |
Ah Max, I'm there with you... what more could one ask of a poem, or story?
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